


Master Pretender

by wildegeest



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Beau's parents suck and Beaujes have fun fucking with them, F/F, Slow Burn, fake princess au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25152880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildegeest/pseuds/wildegeest
Summary: A girl shows up at the Lionett estate surrounded by rumours that she is the kidnapped princess of a faraway island. Beau is...less than convinced.
Relationships: (but like. they're not really together), Beauregard Lionett/Tori, Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically just a fic where Beau and Jester cause chaos in the Lionett household and fall in love in the process.
> 
> Based very (very) loosely on the story of Princess Caraboo.

Dinner with her mother was one family tradition which, though she despised it, Beau very rarely missed. She would sit, silently, and listen to her mother’s half-hearted attempts at conversation for roughly twenty-five minutes, and then she would be free to spend her evening as she pleased. 

Unfortunately ‘as she pleased’ did not generally align well with as her _parents_ pleased.

“Your father tells me you came home late last night. Drunk, I imagine?”

Beau hated this particular conversation, because it wasn’t ever really about drinking. It wasn’t that Beau drank too much, or too often, by the standards of Kamordah. Really, she didn’t. In fact, her parents drank much more than she did.

No, her mother’s problem was that when Beau did drink, it was with Tori. 

“We live on a vineyard, Clara,” Beau muttered, roughly eight minutes into her mother’s monologue. “You expect me to be abstinent when we live on a fucking _vineyard_?”

Her mother pursed her lips so tightly that Beau could see the colour beginning to drain from them. 

Referring to her mother by name? Check.   
Backtalk at the dinner table? Check.   
Swearing at the dinner table? Check.

Beau settled a little further into her chair, ready for yet another reenactment of the same rant she had heard a thousand times, when the sound of the heavy door knocker rang through the house. 

The change in her mother’s demeanour was instantaneous. Within seconds she was sat up straighter, her face smooth and placid, the blood returning quickly to her lips. A few seconds more, and the housekeeper - a new man with a grey beard and a deep dimple between his eyebrows - entered the room, begging the ladies apologies at his intrusion. 

Beau rolled her eyes. She missed their old housekeeper, Rugford, who had used to save the dregs from the family’s drinks so that the staff could play foul drinking games at the weekend. Beau had even joined them once, sneaking them a bottle of one of her father’s more expensive wines. It had shaped up to be a pretty fun night. 

The new man was too clean, too proper, to be any fun. And, his worst crime, he adored and respected her parents in a way than none of the other staff did. Beau had decidedly loathed him from day one. 

He bowed - again - before leaving, and it was only when the door shut that Beau realised she’s missed the entirety of their conversation. Her mother, not ignorant to this fact, told her to stand.

“Smooth yourself down, won’t you. And do something with your hair. It would look so beautiful if you would only take it out of that forsaken bun. And no jokes. I don’t want you making a fool of yourself in front of our guests.”

Beau ignored her mother’s requests, and instead followed her immediately through to the parlour. While the dining room had been hot and stuffy, as her mother preferred it, brow-dimple had already opened all the doors in the parlour room. Beau made a beeline for the doorway leading out to the vineyards, relishing in the cooling wisps of wind that curled around her ankles, and then turned to their guests.

There were two of them: The first was a Halfling man, who had jumped promptly to his feet upon her mother’s entry. He did not look, by any means, a rich man. Definitely not the Lionetts' usual type of guest. His muddied fieldworkers clothes were a stark contrast to the finery of the room, and his discomfort at even being in the house at all was plain. 

Beau barely gave him a glance before turning her eyes to the second, and decidedly less boring of the two: still seated, and partially blocked by the Halfling man, was a girl - a tiefling girl with blue skin and silver-capped horns.

“I’m sorry for the intrusion, Mrs Lionett, only we - that is to say, my wife and I - we came upon this young lady on the road to Deastok and the young feller that was with her told us a story that made us think she might be of some interest to you.”

Clara looked the man over once again, and then turned her gaze to the girl. 

“Go on.” 

The girl blinked back at her dumbly, and the man shifted his weight a little in an attempt to recapture Clara’s attention. “Well, Mrs Lionett, you see the thing is that she don’t speak a lick of common, or of any tongue I’ve come across. The mister that was with her says she’s from some faraway island - says she’s some kind of a princess.”

“A princess?” Beau watched as her mother tilted her head slightly. “And this...gentleman…where is he now?”

“I’ve naught a clue, I’m afraid.” the man scratched at the back of his neck. “He was there to tell her story and was gone after we turned our backs but a second. The- the gentleman, he said that they was kidnapped and brought to Wildemount by pirates, they was being carted off to a safehouse for - well, I assume for ransoming - when they was attacked by bandits. He said the bandits had killed the pirate folk and shoved the two of them out on the road only a few hours before we found them.”

Clara reached forward gently and pinched the hem of the girl’s dress between her fingers, before pulling back with her eyes bright. Very fine fabrics then, for her mother to be so excited. Something that might have implied at least a shred of truth to the story.

Beau moved around slightly, to get a better look at the girl. She certainly looked as though she might have been kidnapped - her clothes, though clearly fine, were tattered and frayed. She had no shoes on her feet, and a scrape across her cheek. When Beau looked upward, at the girl’s eyes, she saw that she was staring right back at her. For a brief moment, there was something about the look that seemed intense, as though the girl was trying to read her mind, but as quickly as she notices it, it had been replaced with a look of nervous excitement.

“Pirates so far inland? We shall have to see to it that the King is told of this. You have done an excellent thing in bringing her to me, Mr...”

“Tomas, ma'am. Tomas Fetch.” 

“Very well, Mr Fetch. We will make sure your good deed is well rewarded.” Clara nodded to brow-dimple, who exited the room, and swiftly returned with a small pouch. He held it out to Tomas, who took it with forced patience.

“Really, Mrs Lionett, you are too kind. We was only doing what we thought best. There is...one other thing. She did give herself a name, see,” he crouched a little until he was at eye-level with the girl, and then pointed to his chest. “Tomas.”

The girl smiled brightly, and jabbed a finger toward her own chest. “Jester.”

Her accent was thick and unrecognisable to Beau, and when the girl opened her mouth again, it was to spurt out a jumble of non-words. Or at least, not words of any language Beau had heard of.

“How very interesting. We shall of course take her in for the time being. Thank you, Tomas.”

“Of course, ma'am. And thank you, again.”

Tomas rushed from the room as though Clara might snatch the pouch back from him if he didn’t move fast enough. 

Clara moved to the couch next to Jester, and began speaking softly about preparations she would make to accommodate her, repeating orders over her shoulder to brow-dimple so that he could inform the staff as to what they would need to do to make the girl at home. 

There was a part of Beau that was angry - furious even - that her mother could show such care and affection to a girl she barely knew, and yet show nothing to her own daughter. Her only form of affection toward Beau was in the form of their uncomfortable nightly dinners, and even those Beau was sure would come to a standstill now that her mother had found herself a new pet. 

New, of course, because this was not the first time this had happened. Her mother had a habit of picking up strays that she believed could be of interest to her, or provide her with some entertainment. 

The previous one - a boy of about 16 who had run away from his wealthy parents - had stuck around for almost two months. Two boring, soul-crushing months Beau had been forced to attend dinners and dance with a boy who believed the intricacies of the Dwendalian Empire’s finances an interesting topic of conversation. Who knows how long her mother would think that this - decidedly much much more interesting - individual would need to stay. Months, certainly. Years?

Without a word, Beau backed out of the house, and made her way out through the huge gates that marked the border of the vineyards. 

At least she would have something interesting to tell Tori.

* * *

It was dark by the time Beau reached the Gemmed Hearth. She scrunched her nose as she pushed through the droves of sweaty patrons through to the bar. The smell of sweat might have been bearable were it not tinged with the smell of sulphur that lingered stagnantly over most of the Mudfields. Then again, after your third flagon you could barely smell it at all. Beau wondered if Cary might be purposefully enhancing the smell in order to encourage more and faster drinking. Regardless of intention, it certainly worked that way.

Tori was, as always, easily recognisable in the booth at the back of the inn. Being tall and muscular as she was, Tori had a habit of being easily recognisable in any room she entered. Especially when the majority of the people around them were Halflings.

“Rough day?” Tori shouted when she saw her. “Hey, Cary! Two more!”

Tori’s voice carried well over the clatter of rowdy conversation that had infested the room, and by the time Beau had seated herself, the dwarf was already shoving two more drinks onto the table. He pointed a stubby finger at Tori. “You. You throw up, you clean up.”

“I told you, that wasn’t me.”

“And I told you, I don’t believe you.” He turned and nodded curtly at Beau before stalking back to the bar.

“What a bore,” Tori said once he was out of earshot.

“I mean, he’s got a point. It’s pretty gross.”

Tori shrugged, and polished off the last of her tankard before pulling the fresh one toward her. “What can I say? I’m a slob.” 

Beau rolled her eyes and focussed on her beer. It was sharp, bitter. Very much to Tori’s taste more than to her own.

“So. What is it?”  
  
Beau shrugged. “Mom’s got a new pet. Some Tiefling princess or some bullshit.”

Tori rolled her eyes. “Well, at least she sounds more interesting than Snoozy Stenton.”

“God, don’t remind me.”

Tori snickered, then looked at Beau thoughtfully. It was a look Beau had learned quickly to distrust.

“What?” she asked.

“Is she hot?”

Beau just about managed not to choke on her drink. “Don’t even think about it. It’s annoying enough having mom obsess over her, I don’t need it from you too.”

“So she is then,” Tori smirked. “Okay, shit dude, I’m just kidding. Hardly matters anyway, give it a month and your mom will be bored of her and ship her off to wherever the used toys go.”

“I guess.”

“And hey, in the meantime, if your parents are distracted then it makes shit way easier for us.” Tori leaned forward conspiratorially. “Good timing, too.”

Beau sat up a little straighter then, and, despite the noise around them being such that no-one could possibly hear their conversation if they tried - a pretty big if, considering everybody in the damn inn was probably planning something just as, if not more shady - lowered her voice. “You found a buyer?”

“Yeah, nothing big, but a few bottles. More if we prove reliable, I’m sure. Seven bottles of the Blue Crest. Think you can get it?”

Beau hummed. “Might take a few days. I, uh, forgot about the bookkeeping for a little while, so now I have to play catch up so that Thoreaux doesn’t blow up at me again.”

“Sucks,” Tori said, stretching her arms out above her head. She finished off her beer and set it down on the table with a heavy bang. “Hey, I know something that’d cheer you up.” 

“More beer?”

“Better than that.” She raised an eyebrow, and Beau scoffed.

“You have a pretty high opinion of yourself.”

“Deservedly so,” Tori grinned. “Gotta be better than going back to Casa Lionett, right? So, how about it?”

Beau looked down into her empty tankard, and huffed. “Buy me another and we’ll see.”

“Charming,” Tori muttered, but was already attempting to flag down Cory. “Next one’s on you, though.”

* * *

When Beau got home the next morning, her head was throbbing, and the smell of sulphur which clung to her clothes was almost enough to make her retch. The smell, apparently, was so pungent that her mother had been able to smell her arrival - when Beau pushed opened the front door, there she was, arms crossed, Jester in tow.

“G’mornin.” Beau moved toward the staircase, her movements so sluggish that her mother had no issue jumping in her path.

“Beauregard. You didn’t tell us that you were planning to stay out. Again.”

Beau’s brain lingered on the word “us”, trying to decipher whether it meant “your father and I” or “Jester and I”. She was ready to place a bet on the latter, until she saw her mother’s gaze harden.

“I, uh. I didn’t plan on it. Staying out, I mean. Just happened.”

“I won’t have things ‘just happening’ now, Beauregard. We will be having a number of guests come to stay and speak with Jester. Your behaviour, while they are here, needs to be that of an adult. If you embarrass your father in front-“

“I know, I know. He’ll kill me, or whatever.”

Clara narrowed her eyes. “I am serious, Beauregard. Your father works hard to ensure that we’re all provided for, that we’re all happy. You could show him a little gratitude. Your behaviour this past couple of months has been beyond unpleasant. And that girl-“

“Tori.”

“Yes, Tori.” The name came out slow, hesitant - as though merely speaking it might summon the girl.

Beau scoffed. “I know, mom. Really. Don’t embarrass Theroux, don’t affiliate with criminals. Now I really, _really_ need to bathe, if that’s okay with you.”

“Actually, no. I’m heading into town, so I need you to stay with Jester.”

“You want me to babysit someone my own damn age?”

She looked at Jester, who stared straight back interestedly. Her dirtied clothes from the day before had been replaced with the soft colourful silks fashionable in Kamordah, though they were just slightly too long for her. It took Beau longer than she would have liked to recognise the dress as one that her mother had bought for her several months back, and which she had tossed into the back of her wardrobe. Her hair, too, had been half braided and knotted at the back. All of this and it wasn’t even 9am. Beau almost felt bad for the girl.

“If she needs anything, get it for her. If she’s bored, find a way to entertain her. It’s a simple request Beauregard,” Clara said, opening the door. “Don’t let me down.”

With that, the lock clicked, and Beau was left standing awkwardly in the foyer with a small Tiefling girl staring at her expectantly.

“I-“ Beau started, then sighed. 

What the fuck did it matter? She’d let her mother down in every other way - adding one more disappointment to the list wasn’t bound to do much. 

“Fuck this,” she muttered. “Just do whatever. I need a bath.”

She could feel Jester’s eyes following her as she ascended the stairs, but refused to turn back. She was not her problem. Beau had managed over twenty years of loneliness in this house, Jester surely could manage a couple of hours.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beau realises that Jester might not be quite what she appears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a super short one because I'm eager to get to the Chaos. Enjoy!

Jester was...strange. Beau learned that fairly quickly, despite the fact that she seldom spent any time around the girl. 

When she had passed by the breakfast room one morning, she had seen Jester pulverising the fruit she had been given, mixing them all into a foul looking brown sludge before eating it. Her mother had sat across from her, watching with, from what Beau could see, equal parts horror and intrigue at the strange performance. She had hear other strange comments made about the girl, too, such as complaints that the girl refused to bathe unless the water was a deep pink. 

Jester, without speaking, had managed to make a hundred demands in those first couple of days, without speaking a single word. Annoying though her presence may have been, Beau did enjoy the chaos it brought to the household.

Jester’s presence had benefits, too: where usually her mother became more obnoxious and picky when taking on a ward, she had been so busy trying to please Jester, that Beau had barely seen her in days. Their evening meal, though not cancelled as Beau had expected, had been expanded to a three-person situation, where her mother would rave about all she was doing to try to find Jester’s home. 

Beau hardly listened to her mother’s ramblings. Instead, she would sit and watch Jester picking interestedly at her meal. Beau’s mother had been having exotic - and expensive - foods shipped to the estate, in an attempt to figure out the kind of foods to which the girl was accustomed. Meats, fruits, strange wonky-looking vegetables, her mother had requested everything they could find on the stalls from the city centre, and placed orders for that which she couldn’t. 

Jester, much to her mother’s dismay, ate few of the imported foods. Save, of course, the fruits.

Unsurprisingly, then, when her parents hosted their first party since Jester’s arrival, they had filled the room with a variety of fruits for the guests - and Jester - to pick at.

Beau’s presence at the party, apparently, was mandatory.

It was a strange event; where usually, her mother’s ward would be walked around and introduced to the guests, Jester had spent most of the party sat alone on the couch. Every so often, a couple of party-goers would walk up to her, prompt her to speak in that strange foreign tongue, and then move away, talking amongst themselves. Even her mother had ignored Jester for most of the night. 

That was why, even though her parents stopped checking on her location ten minutes after she had joined them, Beau did not sneak out as she usually would. It was also why, while the guests stood about discussing Jester as though she were some kind of animal - as though she wasn’t even there - Beau went and sat by her side.

For several moments she sat silently, staring out at the small groups that had gathered around the room, and sipped her wine. 

“Feels shitty, doesn’t it? Being the thing that people only ever want to talk about, but never to? I mean, at least they’re saying flattering things, I guess, but...have any of them even bothered trying to - I don’t know, engage with you in any way?”

Jester stared back at her, eyes wide and innocent. 

“Whatever,” Beau said, and stretched her legs out in front of her. She hadn’t exactly been expecting a response. “They’re the real animals. You see this guy here - the one with the glasses? His wife left him because he could refrain from banging their housekeep. And that one, with the coiffed hair I’m fairly certain has been doing some weird shit with necromancy. He’s in and out of the cemetery all the damn time and I _know_ that he doesn’t know anyone buried there. Plus he just gives off creepy necromancy vibes, you know? Oh and that one,” Beau pointed across the room to where her own father was stood gesticulating airily to a plump woman in a dirt-coloured dress, “well, he’s just a dick.”

There was a quiet snicker from beside her. When Beau snapped her head to face Jester, the girl had turned away, apparently very interested suddenly in the empty space to their right.

She had laughed at her. She had _understood_ her.

Beau narrowed her eyes at Jester. She opened her mouth to confront her, then reconsidered and slumped further back into the couch. Now wasn’t a good time to call her out. No, she would corner her later, find out what it was that Jester was trying to pull off here. 

The rest of the evening, Beau was thoroughly distracted trying to figure out what Jester might be up to - fraud perhaps? Or an elaborately planned robbery? 

Even when her mother plucked her off the couch to speak to some of her guests, she was stuck on autopilot. She nodded and smiled when it seemed right, though none of the words really reached her. Then again, in the kind of society her parents mingled, listening wasn’t really a necessity. People spoke at you, rather than to you, and so any response more than just a well-timed nod or shake of the head was an unnecessary investment. 

By the time all of the guests had filtered out, Beau was exhausted, and her mind ached for her soft warm bed. 

When she went upstairs, however, she did not so much as _sit_ on the bed for fear of falling asleep. Instead, she moved around the room idly, and waited for the house to fall silent at last.

* * *

Beau sneaked over to Jester’s room at almost exactly one o’clock. It only occurred to her as she was rapping quietly on the door, that the girl might well have gone to sleep; that this was, for lack of a better description, kind of creepy. 

Thankfully, after her first knock, she heard light shuffling on the wooden floor, and the door was cracked open. Beau leaned to the left, trying to peer through the small gap. Jester was frowning. Or rather, the right of Jester was frowning, since the left side of her was still obscured by the heavy wooden door. When she recognised who it was, the door shifted more, and Jester moved back toward her bed. When she realised that Beau had not followed, she wafted her arm through the air impatiently, and the slumped down comfortably on her stomach.

As Beau entered, she saw that there were mounds of paper strewn across the sheets and the floor around the bed.

“You’re an artist?” she asked, picking up one of the sheets which had fallen to the ground. On it, there was a painting of a man dressed all in green, his face covered in shadows. “Holy shit, Jester. These are like, really fucking good.”

She picked up another. This one was smaller, more hurried: a doodle of what appeared to be tiny dancing unicorns. Beau snorted. As she looked around, she noted that there were dozens more of these unicorns dotted around the pages, along with other cartoonish drawings and fully realised paintings and sketches.

When she looked up, Jester was completely occupied by her latest painting; her hands flittering across the page in frantic strokes, the tip of her tongue sticking cartoonishly out the corner of her mouth. 

Beau placed the painting down, and moved a few of the others in order to make enough space to sit.

“Jester.”

Nothing. 

“Jester.” She reached over and waved her hand somewhere (she hoped) within Jester’s field of vision. This time, the girl paused mid-stroke, the brush still pressed against the page, and looked up.

In the lamplight, Jester looked softer, warmer; the dark blue smattering of freckles across her nose somehow illuminated by the shadows, rather than hidden by them.

Beau sat up straighter, hardened her gaze. “You understood me. At the party. You understand me now.” 

Not a question. A statement. Really, there was no question about it. Jester had laughed, and the only reason she’d have done that is if she had understood. 

And yet she still sat there, staring dumbly at Beau. It was almost convincing. Beau might almost have believed that she had mistaken the noise she had heard, had she not spent the entire day thinking about that damn laugh.

“I’m not going to rat you out or whatever. Fuck my parents, they suck. Rob them for everything, or all I care. I just want to know - why this whole charade? Why bother going to so much effort?”

Jester frowned then, tilted her head to the side.

“Stop it! I know you know what I’m saying!” 

There was a creak from somewhere in the hall, and Beau froze. Had she been too loud? Had someone overheard? Or was it just the sounds of the house settling? 

“Fuck,” she muttered, and got slowly to her feet.

She closed her eyes as she pressed her ear to the door. Tori had always said it was stupid - that it wouldn’t help her hear better, but Beau swore by it. There was silence outside the door. She stood there for a minute longer, just waiting, listening. 

When she opened her eyes again, Jester had already started back on her painting, moving even more erratically than before. Beau sighed. This was pointless. She should have just had an early night. 

Beau looked back as she opened the door, but Jester was too enthralled with her painting to notice her slipping out. Maybe tomorrow she would have more luck.

* * *

When Beau got back to her bedroom, the window, was wide open, leaving a cool breeze rolling through the room. She froze. She hadn’t left it open, had she? She was tired, but not that tired. 

She moved forward, stepping first on her heel and rolling her foot forward in an attempt to make as little noise as possible. Then, as she took her second step, she noticed it: a small crumpled hunk of paper thrown on the bottom of her bed. All the tension left her body as she picked it up and unfurled it.

_New deadline: ready in 3 days or he’s pulling out. I’d say I wish his dad had, but then we’d have no buyer. Guy’s a piece of shit either way._

_Let me know._

_T._

Beau groaned and fell onto her bed. Three days. Doable, but a pain in the ass. She was annoyed for a whole 20 seconds before she promptly fell asleep, fully clothed, on top of the blankets.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beau takes a tag-along to sell some wine.

Beau could hear the sound of muffled chatter all the way from the study. Her father had very kindly allowed her use of it for the day in order to do his work for him. Generous as ever. 

  
She had intended to get through as much of the bookkeeping as possible in order to catch up to where she should have been over a week ago, but she could not get herself to focus, and the noise was not making it any easier. 

  
She looked down at her messy scrawls, and leaned back. She’d done...enough. Or, she’d done as much as she could muster. She’d been working for almost two days straight - she’d had no opportunity to get the cases of wine to Tori or to interrogate Jester. And she was fucking bored.

  
Slamming the book shut, she pushed the chair out and made her way down stairs. What better time to raid the wine rooms than while her parents were occupied with hosting? 

  
Though all three doors to the main hall were open, Beau didn’t bother trying to be quiet as she moved past them - even if her parents did somehow manage to spot her, they would have been unlikely to call her in, with her dressed as she was in baggy trousers and ink-stained shirt. 

  
Beau did not see her parents; however, she did see Jester. Alone. Again. She met Beau’s gaze, and Beau looked immediately away. She pushed down the roiling feeling of pity that Jester’s discomforted gaze had sparked, and walked on. 

  
Looking after Jester was not her responsibility. She could look after herself. 

  
Beau let herself out of the house, and started down the path toward the front gate. She always did this, in case anybody might have been watching from the house, before dipping behind the bushes to the right and circling back. 

  
The wine storage was kept in a cooled building a little behind the house. It looked, from the outside, small and squat, with no windows and a thick iron door. On the inside, however, were stairs leading to a vast collection of wines. The cooling was done magically, of course, with the temperature changing so that it met the specific standards for each of the different types. 

  
The one Beau was looking for - the Blue Crest - was toward the back of the storage, with the colder stored wines. She took seven of the bottles, and then an eighth for Tori, ensuring afterwards that the remaining wines were spaced out enough that her father would not notice the discrepancy. They barely fit into the large rucksack she had brought with her, and there was a grating clink whenever she walked too quickly, but she had them.

  
She was following her previous path back toward the front of the house, when the patio doors were thrown open, the netting pushed aside, and a few of the partygoers stepped out. Beau ducked behind one of the fuller shrubs, and peaked out at the party. 

  
There were two men, and a Halfling woman, so enthralled in their own heated discussion, that Beau was sure she could sneak past without drawing their attention. Hell, she could probably stomp past and they wouldn’t so much as flinch. But just as Beau prepared to move, there was more movement from the doors, and Beau watched as a small blue frame simpered out onto the patio. 

  
Jester moved to the edge of the decking, and sat, kicking her legs out between two of the wooden rails, and perched her head on her fists, staring distractedly at a patch of dried yellow grass.

  
Fuck that, Beau thought. Not my problem. 

  
She maintained that thought for all of 15ft, before groaning - annoyed equally at Jester and at herself - and stopping. 

  
She placed the backpack on the ground, and carefully moved toward the house, toward the end of the patio. She gave out a low whistle. She did it only quietly, a soft lilting note that the others in the party wouldn’t hear over their argument. 

  
Too quiet, apparently. 

  
She tried again, only a little louder, a little higher, and finally Jester turned slightly - enough to see the flash of movement as Beau waved her over.

  
Jester stood, walked closer to where Beau was crouched, and peered over the top of the railing.

  
“Come on, quick!” Beau whispered, looking back at the huddled group. “They’re not looking.”

  
She gestured for Jester to follow, and then backed up to the cover of the shrubs. She thought, for a moment, that Jester hadn’t followed, had elected to stay at home - at that dull party - rather than join her, and it stung more than Beau had expected.

  
Then she heard a soft thud, and then Jester was by her side.

  
“Be quiet and stay low,” Beau murmured as she slid the backpack onto her shoulders.

  
Jester blinked back, wide-eyed, but stuck close to Beau as she moved through the grounds up to the metal gates.

* * *

  
Jester maintained her feigned lack of understanding all the way to Beau and Tori’s meeting spot on the edge of the Rainbow Vineyards. 

  
No matter how much Beau prompted and quizzed the girl, she was still treated to the same innocent face of confusion. Beau wasn’t sure whether it was annoying, or impressive. 

  
By the time they arrived at the foot of the mountain, Beau had given up hope that Jester might respond, and had instead spent the time telling Jester about Tori. She could be a...difficult person to be around, and Beau thought that some degree of forewarning might be necessary. 

  
Jester stayed quiet throughout, carefully following Beau’s footsteps around the rockier areas of the path that wound its way up to the top of the mountain. 

  
When Beau turned and held her hand out to assist Jester in climbing over some of the rubble, Jester beamed, and accepted it readily. Her fingers were soft, cold against Beau’s perpetually warm skin, and the contact left a cool buzz on her palm. 

  
For a moment, when she saw Jester’s frown, she thought that maybe she had felt the same thing, until she followed the girl’s gaze to the steep incline of the mountain.

  
Beau laughed. “We’re not going up there. There’s a path a minute or two up. It’s...pretty fucking cool, actually. You’ll see.”

  
They reached the side path quickly. It was less of a path, and more of a...well, not a path at all. There were several dead-looking shrubs that needed climbing over before they could reach anything resembling a path - and if Beau hadn’t already known that, she’d have thought that the plants were just lining the edge of the mountain.

  
She certainly didn’t blame Jester for the skeptical look that she threw when Beau started clambering over and through the plants. A feat that was much harder with a heavy bag full of wine bottles.

  
“It’s worth it,” Beau said, battling a rogue branch out of her way. “I promise.”

  
When they reached the other side, Beau brushed herself down, and smiled back at Jester. 

  
The girl, usually so well kept, had several dried brown leaves clinging to her hair. Beau said nothing.  
Instead, she carried on, a short way along the path, to a dirt-covered outcrop tucked away between their mountain and the next. 

  
She took the bag off her back and stretched, watching Jester as she looked out over the town below. “See? Pretty cool, right?”

  
Beau took one of the bottles out of the backpack, moved over to Jester’s side and then lowered herself down so that her legs were hanging over the edge.

  
“The estate is just there.“ She pointed to a cluster of vineyards. The lookout was concealed enough within the mountains that nobody looking would be able to see them, but they could see across most of Kamordah. She wondered then if her parents had noticed Jester’s absence then; or her own. Unlikely.

  
“The temptation to shove you right now is overwhelming.”

  
Beau turned quickly, glaring as Tori strutted toward them. 

  
“You brought your pet?”

  
“Don’t,” Beau muttered. She popped the cork out of the bottle and nodded to the backpack. “Wine’s in there. Be careful though, they’re packed pretty snug.”

  
“Always am. You’d best leave me some of that.”

  
Beau hummed in response. “If he gives you any trouble-“

  
“Then I’ll kick his ass.” Tori picked the backpack up and slid it onto her back. “Fuck, Beau, you climbed up with this on?”

  
“My incline’s not as bad as yours. If you were willing to walk a little further…”

  
“Not gonna happen. My climb’s not too bad anyway. Better that than walk an extra five miles.”

  
“It’s hardly-“

  
Tori mumbled something under her breath, and waved her hand. Stubborn as ever. She took the bottle from Beau and took a long swig, before passing it back and starting off along the path down to the next mountain over. 

  
Beau watched her descent, taking a couple of short swigs out of the bottle. The slope on Tori’s mountain was steeper, more dangerous. Beau had told her a number of times that it would be easier for her to just walk around to the base of the next mountain, but Tori refused. Several times she’’d seen the girl stumble and lose her footing while trying to navigate the path there, only for her to assert later that the path was “not so bad”.

  
When Tori’s path had taken her around the mountainside, where Beau could no longer watch, she turned to Jester, and held out the bottle. Jester eyed it warily, before taking it. She took one hesitant sip, and then held the bottle back, grimacing. 

  
Beau laughed. “Not a fan? I mean it’s not my favourite either. I’d take beer over wine any day, but unfortunately my dad doesn’t own a brewery.”

  
Now that she thought about it, Beau realised she’d never once seen Jester drink. 

  
Jester wiped her lips, nose still scrunched in disgust.

  
“Still the silent treatment? Come on Jester, I know. Aren’t you bored of not talking?”

  
Silence.

  
Beau felt a flush of annoyance course through her body. What was the point? She knew. Jester knew that she knew. Why wouldn’t the girl just talk? 

  
“Whatever,” she mumbled. “But my parents are going to find out soon enough. If I figured it out, then other people will. And they’re getting experts in, too. They’re going to figure out that you’ve been fucking with them and they’re going to make your life hell. And I mean that literally. They aren’t good people, Jester. Mom might seem fine when she’s doting on you, but she can be just as bad as him when she wants to. You’d be better off leaving and trying whatever this game is somewhere else.” 

  
She stood and moved to a spot where her back was pressed against the mountainside looking at where Jester remained staring down at the town. Beau took one last swig, and then stoppered the wine, placing it at her side. 

  
If nothing interesting was going to happen, she may as well sleep until Tori returned.

* * *

  
When Beau woke, she could swear she’d heard voices. Or a voice, at least. The darkness had set in completely since she had fallen asleep, and even with the stars as bright as they were, she could scarcely see a thing through the haze of sleep.

  
“Jester?” 

  
There was a soft scuffling of feet on dirt, and then the outline of the small tiefling appeared to her left.

  
“Were you - who were you talking to?”

  
More shuffling, and then Jester was sat by her side. Her eyes had just about adjusted so that Beau could make out the features of Jester’s face: the furrowed brow, the clenching and unclenching of her jaw. Beau even thought she saw the girls lips part a little, as though to speak, but when the a voice sounded, followed it did not come from beside her, but from the other end of the outcrop.

  
“Hey, guess who managed to get an extra eight gold for the wine?” Tori’s movements were heavy, not at all like the soft steps Jester had made. She sat on Beau’s free side, picking the wine up and chugging several mouthfuls. “Shit, this is strong stuff. That asshole’s gonna have a good night.”

  
“He give you any trouble?”

  
“Nah, just the usual. Added more to his bill and he shut up pretty quick. What about you...you guys, uh, have any fun?”

  
The way she asked was innocent enough, but Beau knew her well enough not to trust that. 

  
“I fell asleep.”

  
Tori looked to Jester, sympathetically. “Don’t take it personally, she’s done that to me before, too.”

  
Beau flushed and hit Tori on the arm. Expected, but that fact made it no less embarrassing. “No I haven’t. Shut up. We weren’t doing anything like that. I just fell asleep.”

  
Tori hummed, and then drank more of the wine before passing it to Beau. “So what’s the deal with her anyway. Why’d you bring her?”

  
“She was having a shitty time. I don’t know, I just felt bad.”

  
“Woah. I thought you hated her.”

  
“I don’t- fuck Tori, she’s right there.” She turned to Jester. “I never said that.”

  
Tori snorted. “It’s not like she knows what I’m saying. Look at her.” Tori snapped her fingers in Jester’s face. “Do you understand me? No? Exactly. I wish you hadn’t brought her, we could be having much more fun-“

  
“Shut up, Tori. Why are you being like this? Fuck dude, even if she couldn’t understand - which she can, by the way - you don’t have to be weird.”

  
“God it’s just a joke, Beau. No need to be so uptight.”

  
“I’m not-“ Beau huffed, and got to her feet. “I’m not dealing with this tonight. I’ll talk to you in a couple of days when you’ve stopped being an asshole.”

  
Tori snorted. “Seriously? You’re just gonna go?”

  
Beau ignored her, and stormed over to the path down. It was quicker this time - she was being less careful, moving thoughtlessly through the bushes. She wasn’t even sure why she felt so angry - she’d certainly said worse about her mother’s wards before. But something about Jester felt different - was different. 

  
Shit. Jester.

  
Beau turned around, to see the girl fumbling through the shrubs behind her. She sighed, and waited for Jester to almost catch up before continuing on her path. She wanted to apologise, but she also knew that she would only get more annoyed by the silence she would surely get in return. 

  
They walked like that, Jester following close to Beau’s heel, until they reached the bottom of the mountain. As they landed back on falt ground, Beau looked up in an attempt to see whether Tori had left, but with the dark and the rugged sameness of the mountainside, it was hard to make anything out. 

  
She huffed and moved to set off again, when she felt soft fingers circle around her wrist.

  
Jester looked concerned. Beau was still trying to think through what she could say to the girl - an apology? Reassurance? She could never quite tell what Jester was thinking, or what she wanted - when Jester squeezed her hand again.

  
“I’m sorry, Beau.”

  
Her voice was accented, sure, but not in any sort of exotic unknown way. It was a familiar lilting accent - from somewhere along the menagerie coast.

  
Beau faltered a moment. _Now_ she was talking? “What?”

  
“I’m- sorry. About your girlfriend. I didn’t mean to cause you problems.”

  
Beau could have laughed at that. Very nearly did, except that Jester was speaking with such sincerity that Beau couldn’t bring herself to do so. “It’s- I mean she’s not my girlfriend. We just...you know. Sometimes...”

  
“Oh. Okay.”

  
There was a beat, and then Jester twisted her head a little, and frowned. Beau followed her gaze and realised that their hands were still locked, her own having tightened over Jesters. 

  
Beau snatched her hand back. “And you didn’t cause problems. Tori did. She does, often.”

  
Jester stayed quiet, and for a moment, Beau thought she might have fallen back into her mutism, until her voice sounded again. Just as soft and hesitant.

  
“But you like her, though. You’re close.”

  
“Yeah, she’s like - not like family, obviously. That would be gross. But...I’ve known her pretty much forever. She’s an asshole, and half of the time I hate her, but that works for us. You know?”

  
“...Not really.”

  
Beau laughed. “It’s complicated. Anyway, why are we still talking about that, when there are obviously much more interesting topics on the table.”

  
“You mean like the fact that you forgot to take your half of the profit?”

  
“What? No. Wait. Fuck.”

  
Jester laughed then. Not the covered half-snicker that she made at the party, but a full laugh, loud and infectious. Beau’s frown dissolved almost instantly. She fought down a smile of her own, and started walking slowly along the road back toward the town proper.

  
“I’ll get that back some other time, but seriously, Jester. What’s going on?”

  
“Well, ah, I don’t know. I mean, I do obviously. But also I don’t. It’s just...it’s a pretty long story.”

  
“Well, we can take a longer route. Whether I take you back at 12am or 3am, my parents are going to be the same amount of pissed.”

  
Jester chewed at her lip, and nodded. “Okay..."

  
Beau slowed a little to fall into step beside her, the anger of only a few moments ago completely forgotten. "From the beginning."


End file.
